A Bass in a Bow Tie
by nondescriptf
Summary: Fluffy Halloween oneshot. Chuck and Blair with kids.


**A/N: Just a fluffy Halloween oneshot. This is an extension of the C/B world from "Practice Makes Perfect". Enjoy!**

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><p>.<p>

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"Isn't there something else you want to dress up in?" Blair asked carefully.

"Nope."

"But there are so many dresses in your closet. And your grandmother is sending over some beautiful party dresses tomorrow, just for you."

"Why?"

"Because you're going to be a princess for Halloween."

"No, I'm not. I don't wanna be a princess."

"But you _are _a princess," Blair tried to rationalize.

"If I'm already a princess, why do I have to dress like one, Mommy? It's Halloween."

"You cannot wear _that_."

"Yes I can."

"Madeline, I will not allow you to go out dressed like that," Blair said, as she tried to mask her frustration.

"But, _why_ Mommy? Why can't I wear this?" Her six-year-old daughter asked her defiantly.

"Because I said so."

"Daddy would let me wear this."

Blair snorted.

"He would," Madeline insisted.

She looked down at her daughter, who looked absolutely adorable in her idea of a Halloween costume. Blair had a weakness for all things Bass in a bow tie, Madeline included. And she had every intention of snapping a few photos, because for the record, Chuck _would_ love it. However, Blair simply _could not_ allow for her to be dressed like that—_in public_.

"Call Daddy, Mommy," Madeline demanded.

"I will do no such thing," Blair said haughtily.

Her daughter tried to stare her down before she hollered from the top of her lungs, "Dorota! _DorotaDorotaDorota_!"

Blair winced for a moment at the sheer volume of her daughter's voice. She wanted to smirk in amusement that Madeline would try to step around her, but Blair was not Eleanor, and she would not allow for her daughter, or any of her children, for that matter, to be reared by Dorota.

In a quiet voice, she called her daughter by her full name, "Madeline Waldorf Bass."

Her daughter froze when she heard the tone that was seldom used in the Bass household.

A moment later, Dorota was standing at the door, trying to catch her breath. The worried look on her face quickly turned into a smile. "Miss Madeline, you look so cute! Is that Mr. Spencer's suit? And Mr. Chuck's bow tie?"

"Yes, Dorota," Madeline mumbled as she looked down at her feet.

As her long-time maid opened her mouth to ask why she was called, the look of dismissal on Blair's face was enough to send Dorota running without a glance back. With a sigh, Blair sat down on the ornate hope chest at the foot of the bed, and patted the seat next to her. Madeline shuffled her feet and almost stumbled, as she tripped on the too long pant legs of her brother's suit, before sitting down.

"Sorry, Mommy," Madeline said solemnly.

She pulled her daughter onto her lap and tipped her chin up to look at her. "What did we say about you going into your brother's room without permission?"

"I just wanted to borrow one of his suits! He has so many of them, he wouldn't miss one."

"You not only chose his very favorite suit, but his favorite shirt, too. You know the rules of the house, young lady. You can't just take Spencer's things without asking first, Madeline."

"But it's the same suit as Daddy's! And I want to be Daddy for Halloween," she explained as her lower lip stuck out into a pout.

"What made you decide this? Last week you said you wanted to be a fairy princess, and you asked Grandma Eleanor to make something special for you, and she did."

Instead of answering, Madeline threw her arms around her, and buried her face into Blair's neck, and squeezed her tightly. Blair couldn't stop herself from hugging her back, her hand gently stroked her daughter's long thick hair.

"Madeline?"

The only response was some unintelligible mumbling that Blair couldn't quite decipher.

"Care to repeat that? So I can hear you this time?" She teased softly.

"I thought it would cheer up Daddy, so he won't be so sad."

Blair was taken aback. What was Madeline talking about? "Your father isn't sad. Why would you think that?"

"I _heard_ him last night, he sounded _so_ sad," she said woefully. "Daddy thinks Ian doesn't 'member him anymore and that Spencer and I don't miss him when he's gone."

"Oh, sweetheart," Blair said softly.

"I thought it would make Daddy smile if he saw I wanted to be _him_ for Halloween. Please Mommy, can I wear this tomorrow?" Madeline implored.

She hesitated for a moment before relenting. "Of course you can. But I still don't think you should wear Spencer's suit."

Madeline opened her mouth to object, but Blair held up a hand.

"There are suits from when Spencer was your age that should fit you better," she explained. There was no _need_ for her to keep them, but she couldn't help herself from saving things from her children's childhood. She loved having tangible evidence of the happy memories. "But don't worry, they'll match something in you father's closet, I promise."

"Ok," her daughter said, a small smile making its way onto her face. "Are you going to tell Spencer I was in his room?"

"I think I'm going to wait until your father gets back, and discuss it with him first. Now, can I ask you to change—."

"_Blair?_" Chuck's voice called out from downstairs. "_Are you home?_"

Madeline's eyes lit up and she pulled out of her mom's embrace. Just as she was about to scramble off her lap and down the stairs to greet her father, Blair stopped her in her tracks.

"Stay as you are. I'll send your father up in a minute."

Her daughter nodded and said, "Don't tell him, ok Mommy? I want it to be a surprise."

She pressed a light kiss on her daughter's forehead and said, "All right, Madeline."

Blair closed the door behind her as she made her way down the stairs. She paused for a moment, as she watched Chuck take their fourteen-month-old son, Ian, out of his stroller.

"I don't know where your mother is, but we'll find her. Do you think she'll like the present you picked out for her?" Chuck asked their son, who smiled up at him while he clutched on to his pinky finger. His heart warmed. It never seemed to change, no matter how many times it happened. Every time Spencer, Madeline, and now Ian, looked at him that way, he still couldn't believe that he and Blair had created that form of life, and that they were his to love and protect.

"I don't know, _husband_, is it beautiful and expensive?" Blair voice floated down the stairs, as she stood there looking at him with a smirk.

"Not nearly as beautiful as you, _wife_," Chuck leered at her. "And it's respectably expensive."

She took the last step down the staircase and walked up to him. He bent over to kiss her, and was surprised by the ferocity of the kiss she gave him.

"Not that I don't appreciate your welcome, but what was that for?" He asked as he juggled Ian so his head rested on his shoulder.

"No reason other than that I love you."

"Ahhh, the best reason, then." Chuck said softly. Blair just slipped her arm around his waist, and snuggled into his chest. "Where is my little terror?"

"Your terror is hiding up in her room. She has a surprise for you, of sorts."

"A surprise?" Chuck repeated. His eyes furrowed. "Should I be concerned?"

The last time Madeline had a surprise for him, she thought it would be terribly amusing to reorganize the drawers in his closet that held his bow ties and neckties. She had gotten bored about fifteen minutes in, and hid the ones she had been indifferent to in various places in his closet. He had managed to hide his irritation with her, and politely thanked her for a job well done. Blair had helped him as they spent over an hour trying to find the hiding places of his missing neckware.

"No." Blair shook her head. "I think you'll love this one, actually."

He smiled in relief.

"But, Chuck…"

"Yes, Blair?"

"She heard you last night."

"Heard what?"

"You _know_ what."

"Oh," he said with a frown.

"_Chuck, you're overreacting," Blair said quietly._

"_I'm _not_. Ian won't even let me hold him without fussing. Spencer and Madeline gave me perfunctory 'hellos', before heading back to their rooms. I don't even think they missed me. It's like I'm a stranger in my own house."_

"_Ian has been fussy all day. And Spencer and Madeline were watching a movie. Chuck, you're making a big deal out of nothing," Blair insisted. "They called you every morning to say hello, and didn't go to bed each night until you called to say goodnight."_

"_It's not the same," he said stubbornly. "Why did I let you convince me it was ok to start going on business trips again? Blair, you _know_ how I feel about being gone so much."_

"_You run a multi-million dollar business, Chuck. You can't just _not_ travel because you feel like it. You didn't travel the entire time I was pregnant with Ian, and you waited six full months after he was born before you started traveling for work again. This was the last trip you have scheduled for this year, so please don't be like this."_

"_I just don't want to be like _him_," Chuck admitted. "I want to be _here_ when the kids need me, or even when they don't."_

"_You are _nothing_ like your father," Blair snapped angrily. She took a deep breath, and offered a conciliatory smile. "It was just bad timing today, Chuck. Tomorrow, you can take Ian with you when you drop Spencer off at my mother's. You'll see that it was nothing. Now, let's go to bed, _I've_ missed my husband very much for the past six days, and I feel terribly neglected."_

_He drew her into his arms and buried his head into her neck and inhaled the soothing smell of her scent. He trailed feather light kisses up her throat, until his lips met with hers. Against the safety of her mouth he whispered, "I've missed my wife very much, too."_

"How much did she hear?" Chuck asked worriedly.

"She thinks you're sad and she wants to make you smile."

His lips twitched. "She must get that from her mother."

"I think she just might," Blair said coyly. "Now hand over our son, so you can go see to our daughter."

"I think Ian is ready for his nap," Chuck informed her as he passed their youngest off to her.

"I'll put him down. When you're done speaking to Madeline, I'll be in our bedroom, waiting for you to bring me my present," she said with a wink. "If it's as lovely as I think it is, I'll have to thank you, _properly_. Don't keep me waiting, too long."

He leaned over and kissed her on the mouth lightly before heading up the stairs.

When he reached his daughter's door, he knocked softly as he called out gently, "Madeline?"

"Come in, Daddy!" Her voice called out from the other side of the door.

He found her sitting at the edge of her bed, legs swinging with a toothy smile. He froze in surprise and didn't quite know _how_ to respond.

"Guess who I am, Daddy!" She said happily.

"Who?" He asked hoarsely.

"_You_!" She giggled as she clapped her hands together. She stood up on her bed and started jumping up and down. "Do you like it, Daddy? Do you?"

She bounced even higher and slipped on her pant leg and fell onto her back on the bed. Chuck's heart leaped as he ran to make sure she was ok.

"Madeline!"

Her eyes fluttered open and narrowed, and for a brief moment, Chuck's throat closed. Madeline was the spitting image of Blair as a child, except for one thing—she had her grandfather's cool blue eyes. On the rare occasion, or from a certain angle, Chuck swore he could see Bart in his daughter. It was such a strange mix to see the only two people he had ever really loved, rolled up into this tiny little being.

His silence filled her eyes with worry, as she reached out and patted him on the cheek. "Daddy, don't you like my surprise?"

Chuck scooped her into his arms and squeezed her tight. "I _love_ it," he whispered in her ear. "But not nearly as much as I love you."

"Ok, but Daddy, I have to tell you something."

"Go ahead, sweetheart."

She started to pet his upper arm. "Promise me you won't be mad, ok?"

He pulled back so he could make eye contact with her and looked at her suspiciously.

"You have to _promise_ me, Daddy. Pinky promise," she demanded holding out her pinky for him.

"Madeline," he said sternly.

"Pinky promise!"

With a sigh, he held out his right pinky finger and Madeline gleefully linked it with hers. She sat down on his lap with a serious look on her face and said in the most tortured voice, "I _hate_ pants! I really, really _hate_ them. Do I _have_ to wear them if I want to dress like you for Halloween?"

Chuck started laughing. Madeline never failed to surprise him, she was so wholly unpredictable. Her thought process never failed to boggle his mind, and in some ways she was more trouble than he or Blair had ever been, combined.

Her face was impassive as she looked put out by the fact that he was amused with her. "Daddy, I'm serious. How can you wear pants all the time, don't they make your legs itchy? I don't think I ever want to wear pants again."

"Your mother doesn't like pants either," Chuck pointed out. "I'm fairly certain when she was a little girl, she only wore dresses and skirts."

"Dresses and skirts are _pretty_, Daddy, pants are not," Madeline confided.

"Then why don't you just wear a skirt? Or one of your pretty dresses? Wait, isn't your grandmother sending you some dresses tomorrow? You could wear one of those, instead."

"But, I'm a princess _every day_, Mommy said so_. _But tomorrow, for Halloween, I want to dress special, just like you," she explained with a grin.

"That's quite the conundrum you're in, Madeline," Chuck said faux-seriously.

"What's a cun-drum?"

"It's co-nun-drum," he pronounced slowly. "And it means you have a confusing problem."

"I do?" Madeline asked as she scrunched up her face. "What's my cun-drum?

"That you want to wear a suit like me," Chuck pointed at himself. He then tugged on the leg of the pants she was wearing and said, "But you aren't the slightest bit fond of those. So what are we going to do with you, Miss Bass?"

Madeline shrugged.

Chuck stared at her thoughtfully while she fiddled with the bow tie he was wearing. "I think I might have a solution."

"What?"

He stood up and carried her into her closet—it was almost embarrassingly large and unsurprisingly, completely filled. She tightened her grip on him and peppered him with questions. "What are we doing, Daddy? Huh? What are you looking for?"

"Give me a minute," he answered absently, as he tried to find the articles of clothing he had in mind. Madeline tried to wriggle herself out of his arms, but he held onto her firmly. "Stop."

She let out a labored sigh as she buried her face into his chest and mumbled, "Hurry up, Daddy. I'm bored."

"Here we go!" Chuck said triumphantly. He pulled out a jumper and moved on to finding a suitable shirt. A minute later, he had compiled everything he needed and stepped back into Madeline's bedroom. Sitting her down on her bed, he laid out the outfit he picked for her.

"Now, this matches my brown tweed suit," he explained. Next, he pointed to the yellow shirt. "And if you wear that with it, you can wear a bow tie with it."

"A _purple_ bow tie?" Madeline asked.

"That can be arranged," Chuck said with a smirk. "I'm sure we can find one that will match your headband."

"But Daddy, you don't wear headbands!" She said with a giggle.

"No, but your mother does," he said softly. He made a silly face at his daughter, which had her laughing again. "Now does this meet to your approval? Can we agree that you will no longer be rifling through your brother's closet and wearing his clothes?"

She nodded happily. "No pants!"

"All right, I'm going to send Dorota upstairs in a minute. So please change out of your brother's clothes and give them to her. If we're lucky, he won't notice."

"You're not going to tell him, are you Daddy?" Madeline asked hopefully.

"Only if you _promise_ that you will stop going into his room and taking his things," Chuck said in a no-nonsense tone. He stuck out his pinky finger. "_Pinky promise_."

Madeline made a face before she hooked her finger with his and sullenly agreed, "Pinky promise."

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"What time is Cyrus bringing Spencer back?" Blair asked him as he walked into their bedroom.

"He didn't say. Cyrus said he would call us, but he's keeping Spencer for lunch," Chuck replied as he slipped out of his jacket and sat down next to his wife. "Did you know he's taking our son to Temple?"

"I'm aware," she answered wryly. "Spencer asked him the other day about Hanukkah. And so Cyrus got all excited and offered to him take to the Synagogue, and Spencer said yes."

"Does he realize that we're not Jewish?" Chuck asked while he stretched out onto bed and pulled her into his arms. "More specifically, that _you're_ not Jewish, hence our children are _not_ Jewish."

"Please feel free to engage in this discussion with Cyrus if you'd like," Blair said in amusement. "But do not involve me. Now are you really going to keep stalling, and not give me my present?"

"Well, it depends on your answer to my question," he said mysteriously.

"Which is what?"

"Who are we dressing as tomorrow? Better yet, what are our plans?"

"Well…" Blair said mischievously. "There are a couple of options. It's the Howards Masquerade Ball tomorrow night. We're going as Cleopatra and Marc Antony. However, we do have a couple of hours between putting the kids to bed and when we need to make an appearance. What we do in those two hours is completely negotiable."

"Might you be convinced to pull out your Constance uniform, so we can sneak onto campus, and make out in the quad?"

Blair laughed. "The last time that happened, I believe we narrowly escaped getting caught by security, and I recall ending up very, _very_ pregnant."

Chuck shrugged. He wasn't going to deny it, he had a terrible weakness for Blair in her old uniform. It might have something to do with the fact that he didn't get to get her _out _of her clothes as often as he should have back in high school.

"It was merely a suggestion."

"Or, instead of making the trip to our old school, we could just make the trek to the rooftop?" Blair offered.

He leaned over and erased the distance between their mouths, brushing his lips against hers. "I knew there was a reason why I married you."

Her hands had already removed his bow tie, and were now unbuttoning his shirt. "We have to hurry. Ian will be waking up in less than an hour."

And so they lost themselves in each other, as they were apt to do—the amethyst necklace in his jacket pocket temporarily forgotten.

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><p>AN: Thank you so much for reading. I think I'm on a serious fluff kick. I apologize in advance for any typos, I didn't get to edit it as much as I'd like to.

Special thanks to OllieCullie for being my sounding board and laughing with me and Iluvenis for dissecting the tiny little details with me.


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